by Paige Sleuth
The door on the other side of the hallway led to a small bathroom. Peering inside, Kat didn’t see anything amiss there either.
She turned her attention to the closed door of what had to be the master bedroom. Assuming Mrs. Tinsdale was inside her apartment, that was the only place left where she could be.
Kat swallowed as she crept toward the end of the hallway. As much as she prayed that Mrs. Tinsdale had just popped out to do a little grocery shopping, she knew her neighbor would never have left Matty free to wander the building while she was away. Kat knew something was seriously wrong, no matter how badly she wanted to find a safe explanation for the open front door.
Kat paused when she made it to her destination. She gripped the doorknob, glancing back at Matty as if seeking the cat’s permission to enter. Matty’s eyes were huge as she stared back at her from the other end of the hall.
Kat positioned her ear closer to the door. “Mrs. Tinsdale?” she called again—fruitlessly, as she already knew there would be no response.
Left with no other options, Kat turned the doorknob. The hinges creaked as she slowly pushed the door open. She dreaded what she would find, but it wasn’t until she saw the disarray in the bedroom that she realized she was holding her breath.
The rumpled bedspread dangled halfway off the mattress. She didn’t know for sure if the mussed-up comforter had resulted from a scuffle or if Mrs. Tinsdale had simply not finished making the bed after waking up this morning, but she suspected the former. Mrs. Tinsdale struck her as the type to keep her living quarters neat and organized. Making the bed was likely one of the first things she did after waking up in the morning.
Kat’s eyes veered toward the floor, where a lamp was smashed next to the nightstand. The disorder—and what it implied—made her woozy. She leaned against the doorframe for support, envying Matty and her position in the hallway. If Kat had her own way, she would plant herself outside as well, then wait for someone else to deal with this.
But she knew she couldn’t turn around and walk away. Even if she and Mrs. Tinsdale hadn’t known each other well, she couldn’t leave a woman in potential peril simply to make things easier on herself.
Kat opened the door the rest of the way, searching the room for Mrs. Tinsdale herself. That was when she spotted the foot sticking out of the connected bathroom. The foot lay motionless on the floor, the ankle twisted at an unnatural angle.
Kat’s heart was thumping so hard now she feared she might collapse without the support of the doorframe to keep her upright. She would need all her strength to make it from this side of the bedroom to the bathroom.
Her legs shaking, Kat clutched the side of the bureau, but she pulled her hands back as soon as they made contact. Too late, she figured it would be better not to touch anything. If it turned out that Mrs. Tinsdale’s bedroom was a crime scene, Kat didn’t want to leave any more evidence of her presence here than she already had.
Mustering up what remained of her internal strength, Kat somehow made it to the bathroom without leaning on anything. She had to smother a scream when she caught sight of Mrs. Tinsdale’s face staring vacantly at the ceiling. Kat didn’t need to check for a pulse or other vital signs. Anyone could see the woman was dead.
Dashing out of the bedroom with her stomach threatening to reject the breakfast she had savored only thirty minutes ago, Kat scooped up Matty on her way out of the apartment and rushed back to her own unit to call the police.
* * *
Click here to find the book at your favorite online retailer.
Books in the Cozy Cat Caper Mystery series:
Book 1: Murder in Cherry Hills
Book 2: Framed in Cherry Hills
Book 3: Poisoned in Cherry Hills
Book 4: Vanished in Cherry Hills
Book 5: Shot in Cherry Hills
Book 6: Strangled in Cherry Hills
Book 7: Halloween in Cherry Hills
Book 8: Stabbed in Cherry Hills
Book 9: Thanksgiving in Cherry Hills
Book 10: Frozen in Cherry Hills
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paige Sleuth is a pseudonym for mystery author Marla Bradeen. She plots murder during the day and fights for mattress space with her two rescue cats at night. When not attending to her cats’ demands, she writes. She loves to hear from readers, and welcomes emails at [email protected].
